


Home // Joshler oneshot

by imagoner



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: joshler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagoner/pseuds/imagoner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler and Josh both want to run away from of their homophobic households.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home // Joshler oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't great & it's hella short but i wrote the second part on tumblr and wanted to write some more for it. Its inspired from the clips of Tyler and josh running & holding hands.  
> Also thanks for actually reading my last one shot, wasn't expecting that.

We stand on his front porch, bags both occupying our backs. I stuffed mine with clothes and various cans of red bull. There's an on edge vibe in the air, and we both haven't really said anything to each other since it all happened.  
He told them about us.  
Well, accidentally.  
He didn't really tell me the full story because it all happened so fast, it was all thrown at me through messy text messages and uneven breathes.

All I gathered was that his parents found out and it didn't turn out well. There was yelling and screaming, them telling him things that never should have reached his ears. Things that I had to keep assuring him aren't true. 

It happened to me too, you know. It happens to me everyday. 

“are we really running away from home?"  
He asks, giving voice to the question that had been on my mind ever since we agreed upon leaving. I sigh at the obvious doubt we were both having, but i won’t let it give in. We can't stay here. Not with them. 

"It’s not home if you want to run away from it”  
I mumble, and suddenly the silence feels too loud. My throat tightens.  
I can feel his eyes on me, but i keep my head down and my voice quiet. Too afraid that if i look up and meet his gaze, i’ll break. 

“then what is it? What is home? Because I honestly don't know anymore” His voice cracks as if he's on the brink of a mental break down. We both feel messily emotional and unsure. 

But I wasn’t expecting him to ask that. The question feels too big. Too heavy. All I know is that it can't be here, not in these brick walls and low ceilings. Not in these quiet (but so poorly hidden) slurs and 4pm evening prayers.

What is home.

I can feel the most automatic response seeping through my lips, almost spilling onto the concrete floor and. I try to stop it. I really do.  
but it’s the only answer that makes sense. 

"you”


End file.
